


Proposals and Politics

by felixs_thigh_highs



Series: Burn Until We Meet Again [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minor Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Pining, Political Alliances, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-War, Sad Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier Needs A Hug, Sylvain Jose Gautier's Father's Bad Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixs_thigh_highs/pseuds/felixs_thigh_highs
Summary: “Sylvain, this is the Lord and Lady Itha and their daughter, Althea.” They stood as they were introduced, Lord Itha coming forward to shake Sylvain’s hand and the ladies curtseying demurely.“My lord, my lady, Miss Althea,” he greeted them in turn. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company today?”“Please sit down, everyone,” the margrave said, waving his hand. “We have much to discuss.”...Felix has been gone for three years. Sylvain still has hope that he'll return soon, but Margrave Gautier has other plans for his son.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Original Character(s)
Series: Burn Until We Meet Again [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655503
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	Proposals and Politics

_ S-- _

_ Happy birthday. I can’t believe that this time next year, you’ll be 30. Almost doesn’t seem real. _

_ I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve heard a few rumors that your father isn’t doing too well. Might not be too long now until you take over as margrave. Maybe you’ll be able to do what he hasn’t been able and make peace with Sreng. I know it would take a load off your shoulders if you didn’t have to always be watching that border for potential attacks. That’s no way to live, constantly on alert for danger. I know, because it’s how I’ve lived for the past few years. I grow weary of it. _

_ \--F _

There was a knock at the door of Sylvain’s personal study, where he had been tasked with answering correspondence from some surrounding noble lords. It was dull and tedious work, but he needed to get used to it. Soon he would be margrave and it would all fall to him. His father was approaching his seventieth year and his health had been failing in recent months. Despite that, or maybe because of it, he had been pestering Sylvain since the war ended about marrying and producing heirs, but Sylvain just shrugged him off. He had no interest in carrying on the family curse -- er, bloodline, rather. And he was still waiting for Felix to return from his journey of self-discovery and healing. His latest letter, which Sylvain had received four months ago around his birthday, had hinted that maybe that time was drawing near.

“Yes?” Sylvain called to the person behind his door.

His father’s personal steward, Harmon, opened the door and entered.

“My lord, your father wishes to see you in his personal solarium.”

“I’ll be right there.” Harmon bowed and took his leave.

It was odd that his father wanted to see him in the solarium. He had been conducting most of his business in the comfort of his bedroom, only leaving when he had a guest. Did that mean that someone had come to Gautier manor? Sylvain’s heart leapt at the absurd thought that maybe his wayward swordsman had finally returned. He shook the thought from his head, though, reminding himself that Felix would have come straight for his room instead of going to the margrave first.

Sylvain knocked politely on the solarium door, entering before receiving an answer. Sure enough, his father had company, a couple in their fifties and a young brunette woman about his age.

_ Oh no _ , he thought, giving his father a side-eye that the others couldn’t see. Then he donned his people-pleasing facade as his father introduced their guests.

“Sylvain, this is the Lord and Lady Itha and their daughter, Althea.” They stood as they were introduced, Lord Itha coming forward to shake Sylvain’s hand and the ladies curtseying demurely, Althea holding one of her mother’s arms to support the older woman.

“My lord, my lady, Miss Althea,” he greeted them in turn. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company today?”

“Please sit down, everyone,” the margrave said, waving his hand from his seat. “We have much to discuss.”

_ Indeed _ , thought Sylvain, anger starting to roil in his stomach. His years of wooing girls had taught him nothing if not how to hide his true emotions behind a fake smile, for which he was immensely grateful in this moment.

Sylvain took a seat in the chair next to his father while their guests returned to their long chaise lounge.

“Now, Lord Itha, tell my son here what you were telling me about the current state of your territory.”

“Of course, Margrave.” Lord Itha turned to address Sylvain. “As you know, the Itha Plains were once claimed by House Blaiddyd as part of its domain, and the elder Blaiddyd brother, Rufus, was pronounced Grand Duke of Itha by the late king. With the fall of that house and the death of Rufus, Itha has fallen into chaos. The war thankfully didn’t affect us terribly, not being of particular political or military importance. Now, with the war over, many in the area are squabbling over who owns or controls what, and the common folk are suffering as a result.”

_ Low blow, bringing the common people into this to tug at my heartstrings _ , Sylvain thought, taking the opportunity to jump in, and potentially avoid a messy scene.

“Surely Queen Byleth could lend you some aid in quelling these rebellious nobles. She has been restructuring society around the former Leicester region of late, so surely she has some idea what might work in your situation.”

“We have written to her, and her reply was that with the Faerghus region having been ruled by an entirely different system than Leicester, a more stringent system of nobility, that it might be more beneficial if we could work this out ourselves, within her new laws and policies, of course.”

Sylvain smiled to cover up his growing unease. “What would you have us do, my lord? We are hardly in the position to police both our territory and yours, especially considering the fact that Sreng has thus far been unwilling to sign a peace treaty with us. Our military forces are still being replenished after the war. Maybe you should take the queen’s advice and work this out amongst yourselves.”

“Would that we could, my lord. The other nobles claim that I have no authority to try to coerce them into any sort of hierarchy, especially one with myself at the top. They never formally recognized Rufus as the proper ruler of our territory, so they ignore the fact that he appointed me his successor before he died, despite the fact that my ancestors gave the area its name. I have no desire to rule, but I also dread seeing any of those power-hungry fiends in a position of power. Which brings me to my proposition.”

Sylvain’s heart jumped into his throat. Before he could come up with any other possible solutions to this issue, Lord Itha stood, motioning Althea to do the same.

“My lord Sylvain, I offer the hand of my daughter, Althea, to you in marriage, to secure a mutually beneficial union between our houses and our territories. Gautier would annex Itha, gaining the rich and fertile soil and the wealth of fauna that populate the area. This would help feed your territory during the harsh northern winters. In return, peace would be restored to Itha, as the feuding nobles would have no choice but to accept the rule of a margrave.”

Sylvain fought to keep his emotions at bay, racking his brain for anything to say, any way he could get out of this without causing deep offense or starting a civil war, either between Itha and Gautier or between the nobles in Itha. Politically, this was the right thing to do. As far as Althea went, any other man would be happy to marry such an attractive woman. Although, Sylvain had yet to hear her speak, so he knew nothing of her personality.

In an effort to stall, Sylvain stood and bowed to the lord and to Althea. “My lord, I am flattered by your offer--”

“Sylvain.” His father’s voice was a warning behind him.

Sylvain plowed on. “However, if I may, might I request some time with Miss Althea, to talk and get to know her? Surely my father has extended our hospitality to you for a few day’s time at least. Let me use this time to consider your offer before I give you an answer.”

Sylvain felt his father relax behind him, and Lord Itha seemed happy with the request. “Of course, my lord. Surely we can reach some sort of arrangement in a timely manner.” Lady Itha also nodded her assent from her seat on the chaise.

Clapping his hands together once, Sylvain said, “Great! I’ll take my leave now. I shall see you all at dinner.”

Before anyone could say anything, Sylvain left the solarium, needing time on his own to process what was happening. He returned to his room as quickly as possible without actually running, slamming and locking the door behind him. Leaning against the door, Sylvain finally let his emotions come to the surface, red hot tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, born of both anger and yearning. It was what he had feared his whole life, being forced into an arranged marriage for political purposes. For all the good that Byleth had done in Fódlan the past three years, she hadn’t been able to do away with centuries of noble thinking and political maneuvering.

He had been put in an impossible situation and without Felix here, he had no good reason to reject the proposal. Even if the swordsman weren’t wandering Fódlan, the margrave would probably outright reject any talk of forgoing this political marriage, with its promise of enriching Gautier and of producing Crest-bearing heirs, for one purely for selfish reasons. And without knowing where Felix was, Sylvain couldn’t exactly write him a letter and tell him what was going on or beg him to come home and help deal with this mess.

“Maybe someday,” he had told Felix before he left. But it was looking more and more like someday would never come for them.

…

Dinner that night was pheasant roast with berry sauce followed by peach sorbet, Sylvain’s two favorite foods. He couldn’t help but think that his father was buttering him up, subtly begging him to be a good son, hold his tongue, and agree to this match for his house’s sake. Whatever the reason, Sylvain thoroughly enjoyed the food and made sure that the wine kept flowing; he needed the liquid courage tonight. When they had finished their sorbet, Sylvain asked Althea to join him for a walk around the grounds, while their parents retired to the margrave’s sitting room for after-dinner drinks and conversation.

Once outside in the crisp Horsebow Moon evening air, Sylvain let loose an enormous sigh and dropped his stuffy noble facade. Since he had no interest in courting Althea, there was no reason to keep up the pretense. If she balked at the real him, it would be all the more reason to proclaim this an unviable match.

“So, our parents want us to get married,” he said without preamble, putting his hands behind his head and stretching as they walked down toward the courtyard. 

“Indeed, my lord,” Althea replied, keeping her head low and her hands folded in front of her, like a proper noble lady.

He cringed and waved his hands in front of himself. “Please, none of that nonsense. My name is Sylvain. There’s no need to be formal with me.”

“Of course, my lo--” She stopped herself just in time. “I mean, of course, Sylvain. And you may call me Allie.”

He grinned. “Great. That’ll make things so much easier. Can we also agree to do away with pretending that it’s not super-weird that our parents want us to marry without knowing each other?”

That comment she had to consider for several moments, weighing the risks of being honest versus saying what she knew she was supposed to say. She seemed to be trying to figure out if this was a test, examining his face for any clues as to the intentions behind his words. She must have liked what she found, for she relaxed her perfect posture and let the pleasantly interested expression on her face fade away.

“Right?” Her voice had also changed, deepening slightly and losing its graceful accent. “I mean, I thought that after the war, this kind of thing would stop. But I guess it has only been three years, and you can’t change generations worth of culture in that short of a time.”

Sylvain was almost dumb-founded at this change in Althea, though he had to admit he was incredibly impressed with her courage to dispense with the prim and proper facade so readily. His mouth must have fallen open, because she reached over and pushed his jaw up with her hand.

“Stop that now, or you’ll start drooling.” She grinned at him.

He shook his head a bit to come back to his senses. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “Just, you’re not at all how I imagined you’d be when I first met you. You’re actually kind of amazing.”

“Well, thanks. I’m glad we don’t have to go through that whole song and dance. I’ve always hated it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They had come to the courtyard, which was a hedge-lined square with a fountain in the middle and four benches situated along each edge. Sylvain and Althea sat down on one and allowed the soft sounds of the fountain to fill the silence for a while. The sun was setting, but a pleasant warmth lingered from the early fall day.

Never one for long silences, Sylvain finally decided to ask the question that had been weighing heavily on his mind since the solarium. “What are we going to do about this whole marriage thing?”

Althea sighed. “Honestly, Sylvain, I’m sure you’re a nice enough guy and all, but I don’t want to marry you.”

Sylvain couldn’t help but let loose a deep belly laugh. “Wow, Allie. You know, there was a time I would have been deeply offended had a girl turned me down so quickly like that, but now, it’s kind of refreshing. And since we’re being so honest, I don’t really want to marry you either. In fact, I…” He hesitated, unsure if he should reveal his feelings for Felix to this woman he’d just met.

Her eyes softened. “Let me save you the trouble of confessing first. There’s a man back in Itha, Titus, that I love desperately, but he’s a commoner, so my father has refused his proposal of marriage. We considered eloping, but it would break my frail mother’s heart, and he has younger siblings he cares for; their parents died in the war. So, we love from afar, carving out small pockets of time alone to steal a kiss or, if we’re lucky, a night together.” She lowered her eyes. “If you and I get married, I’m afraid you would never have my heart.”

Sylvain reached over and placed a hand on hers. “I too love someone that I can’t be with, at least not as things are right now. I’ve loved Felix since we were kids, but the war did a number on him and he needed to leave to be on his own for a while. That was almost three years ago. And obviously my father would never approve of that marriage because there would be no heirs forthcoming, and he’s obsessed with Crests. So, yeah, I’m right there with you.”

He pulled his hand back and stretched his arms over his head. “So, what are we going to do? It’s not like either of us is getting what we want as things currently stand, and maybe if we stick with this marriage for a while, things in Itha will improve to the point that we can separate amicably. Then I’d do what I could to ensure that you and Titus could be together.”

“What about your Felix?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “He knows where I am when he’s ready to come home.” A worried look crossed his face. “Though, if you and I are already married by then…”

Althea smiled. “As long as you’re discreet, I don’t mind if you two spend time together. If one of us can be happy, who am I to stand in the way?”

Sylvain’s eyes widened. “Allie, have I mentioned that you’re amazing?”

“You might have.”

Sylvain pulled her into a side hug. “Yeah, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

…

The following day, Sylvain and Althea announced their acceptance of the proposed union to their parents. Preparations began, invitations were sent out, and the Gautier manor became a hive of activity. They set the date for two months out, seeing no need to delay any longer than that; Itha was in need of stability, after all, and winter was coming, when Gautier needed extra stores of food to feed its people.

The Ithas stayed at Gautier manor to help with the planning, which allowed Sylvain and Althea to spend more time together and grow in their friendship. They reminisced about their childhoods and better days spent with their lovers. They commiserated over the struggles they endured during the war, though Sylvain was relatively vague about what he had seen and done during those five years.

During the months of their engagement, Sylvain was constantly on the lookout for a letter from Felix or any rumor that he may be in the area. He sent a letter to Ingrid and Ashe, personally inviting them to the wedding, explaining the situation in brief, and asking them to also keep an ear to the ground for the swordsman. By the time the Red Wolf Moon and the big day arrived, no one had heard anything from Felix. 

Thwarting Faeghan traditions, Althea snuck into Sylvain’s room the morning of the wedding to check on him. He was standing in front of his full-length mirror, eyes downcast, absent-mindedly fiddling with his formal cravat, which had formed itself into a knot at his neck. His hair was a tousled nest on his head and he was still wearing his sleep pants. Althea sighed and took pity on the man, stepping forward to help undo the knot in the cravat.

“Is this how you plan to marry me today, Sylvain? You look a mess.”

He lowered his hands and let her undo the damage he’d done. “Sorry, Allie, I’m just a little distracted.” He raised his eyes to hers and put on his most-charming smile. “I’ll be better once we’re in front of our guests. Trust me, I’m good at hiding my true emotions.”

Having undone the knot in the cravat, Althea moved on to his hair. She grabbed a bottle of hair conditioner from his dresser and began taming his wild locks. “I know you are, but don’t think you have to put on a smiling face for me.” She patted down his hair and arranged it into a handsome style. “I’m sorry you never heard from Felix.”

At the mention of his former lover’s name, Sylvain’s face fell again. “Me too. I just hope he didn’t hear about this from some gossip-monger and think the worst. It would be so like him to do that. Beneath his tough and prickly exterior is a rather tender heart.” He looked wistfully off to the side. “Goddess, I miss that man.”

Althea placed a hand on his arm. “Well, let’s get this day over with so we can start setting things right in Itha. In the meantime, we’ll keep an ear out for him.”

Sylvain reached across his chest and covered her hand with his. “Thanks for everything, Allie. I know this is hard on you too. Maybe once my dad kicks the bucket, we can invite Titus and his siblings to live here. We have plenty of space, and I could make him a knight or something.”

Althea’s eyes lit up. “Sylvain, while I don’t relish the thought of anyone dying, I think that idea is the best wedding present I’ll receive today.”

“I aim to please.” He focused on the reflection in the mirror before him. “Damn, I really am a mess. You should go back to your quarters before someone catches you here. I can take it from here.”

Althea pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll see you out there then.”

After she left, Sylvain finished putting himself together for the ceremony. Then he went over to his night stand and opened the top drawer, taking out a small wooden box. Inside the box on a pad of soft blue velvet was a simple golden band, the same one that Sylvain had taken to Derdriu three years ago with the intention of proposing to Felix. He had never gotten the chance, though, because right after the battle was over, Felix told him that he was leaving to become a mercenary. Though it had broken his heart to do so, Sylvain put on a brave smile and told him to do what he needed to.

Sylvain rubbed his thumb over the ring. “Wish I could be sharing this day with you, Fe. I love you, wherever you are.”

Sighing, Sylvain replaced the ring and put the box back in his night stand drawer. Maybe someday that ring would find its way to its intended recipient. For now, though, Sylvain had to go put a different ring on another’s finger.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be uploading an edit of Margrave and Mercenary to better fit in with this fic later today. So if you've read that one, look for the edit. This series is developing little by little, but I think I have a pretty good handle on where it's going now. Unlike a lot of you better organized writers, I don't have an outline, just a vague idea that I have to have Sylvain and Felix be happy in the end. Thank you for reading!


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